


It's just a kiss

by darter_blue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mistletoe, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue
Summary: Bucky is stuck waiting for Steve at Stark's annual Christmas Party. Steve who was suppose to arrive an hour ago. Steve who was supposed to save his best friend and simultaneously use him as an excuse to leave early.But Bucky might not make it much longer - there are too many people, its too loud,  there's too muchlife. But he wants to see Steve, he lives for the times he gets to see Steve even if Steve has finally arrived with mistletoe for his festive outfit, kissing everyone in the room...Looking to kiss one specific person...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 87
Kudos: 344





	It's just a kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoStringsOnMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoStringsOnMe/gifts), [Kalee60](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalee60/gifts).



> Merry Christmas everyone! Or Happy Holidays! 
> 
> Have a little Stucky Christmas fluff to wrap you up like a nice warm hug.
> 
> As part of a prompt challenge with my beautiful besties, [Kalee60](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalee60) and [NoStringsOnMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoStringsOnMe)
> 
> For the prompt: Mistletoe

Bucky is not having the best time.

Objectively, looking back at some of his past experiences, this should be a cake walk. He can catalogue the following as evidence: He is not tied down. He is not under duress. He is not fighting for air. He does not have any kind of electrode, or electrical device strapped to or near his body. He is not being put into cryogenic storage. He has not been given a gun, a knife, and a mission to use those weapons to hurt, maim or kill.

He is not being hurt, maimed or killed.

And the big one, the kicker; he is not alone.

But. Therein lies the problem.

It’s true that Bucky craves company, the warmth of a body close by, the comforting sound of someone else's breathing, the weight of their presence in a room. But he can only handle one or two people at the best of times. At the worst of times, well, he can barely handle himself, it’s no good for anyone else to be near him.

And this, right now - well there have to be close to a hundred people in this room.

Admittedly it's a large room. Of course it is, it's Tony's tower. The room is open to the entire space of this floor, and split level. But still. It's loud and it's crowded, and the exits are compromised, and Bucky hates it. He hates it.

And Steve. Steve isn't _here_ yet. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. He was supposed to be here to make an appearance, to be a team player, smile happily and accept Christmas gifts and drink the spiced wine and then rescue his old friend Bucky from the smothering effect of too many people and not enough air.

But he's _not_ here. He's stuck at a press event for the Avengers, and has sent Bucky a text to say that he would be there soon, to _please_ wait for him, that it had been too long since he's seen him and also he needs a good excuse to get out of the party early.

What better excuse is there than a broken down ex-assassin with proximity issues and a desperate need to get home to his (too) quiet, park slope apartment.

So. Bucky is stuck until Steve arrives.

He managed to get here on his own, though, so at least he can tick that box off his recovery list. Today he performed grown-up-human-being tasks. He has made polite conversation with people he doesn't know well enough to panic on, he's managed to keep down three out of three of the hors d'oeuvres he's picked from passing plates, and he's managed not to slip into staring his murder glare at anyone, not to scare the shit out of Tony's guests, or the wait staff, or the other Avengers. So he will be patting himself on the back tonight, perhaps he can look back and see the pain as being worth the sense of accomplishment. 

Bucky is especially proud that he's managed to dress festively, as requested, in a dark green knitted sweater covered in tiny reindeer, a red knit cap to keep his head warm and red and white Christmas mittens that, despite his compulsion to do otherwise, he removed upon entering. Shortly before he sat down at the couch he quietly pulled into this corner. They are sitting next to him, folded, on the coffee table. Next to his eggnog and the helmet for his motorcycle.

Natasha has been swinging by his spot every twenty minutes to gauge his emotional state, and each time she looks more ready to pull him up and force him to mingle. So far Bucky’s face has persuaded her to avoid the inclination.

Someone finally does collapse into the seat next to him, but it's not Nat and it's not Steve. It's the kid, Wanda, with her long auburn hair and her big eyes and her haunted expression. 

'Is it okay if I sit here?' she asks, looking over at Bucky, perched on the end of the cushion like she's ready to jump up at the slightest sign that Bucky doesn't want her there.

And though he’s terrible at talking to people (he remembers fleetingly, that he was good at it once) he can’t deny that the proximity, the rhythmic sound of her breathing, the heartbeat Bucky's enhanced ears can hear, nice and steady; it all serves as a balm for the excessive number of people shouting and laughing and eating around him.

'Sure, you can sit there,' Bucky answers, flicking his eyes up and down Wanda's outfit. Green, red and white striped stockings with a short red pinafore dress over a green long sleeved t-shirt. 'I like your outfit. Festive.'

'Oh,' she says, looking down at herself, 'Yes, well. This is my first ever Christmas, so I'm taking it very seriously.'

'Ah,' Bucky says, not wanting to poke too hard at the subject, lest she not wish to open up, 'It's my first Christmas for the last seventy years or so. I went a bit overboard with _festive_ as well.'

'Are you holding up okay?' Wanda asks, a lilt to her accent, her head cocked slightly to one side. 'Did you need anything?'

'I'm okay,' Bucky lies, 'I'm just… laying low.'

'I can see that, ' Wanda smiles as she looks over the couch he stole away to hide on, 'But it's good that you're here.'

'Thanks, kid,' and he means it. There's few people in the world who can understand what it's like to live in Bucky's head. He's lucky that two of them happen to be here tonight, keeping an eye on him. 

And of course now that Bucky has found someone to talk to, Steve finally arrives. When the way Bucky's eyes will seek him out, will track him, is made even more obvious by the fact that it stops him mid conversation. And though he's conscious that Wanda is watching him, Bucky can't help the laugh that escapes him at the sight of Steve in his "festive" outfit.

He has put zero thought into it, it's just his regular outfit, blue jeans and a too tight blue dress shirt, but with the addition of a headband with some kind of green and red decoration fastened to a wire, standing straight up over Steve's head.

And Bucky would be excusing himself to get up and go over to him, only it seems like suddenly every other guest at the party has had the same idea. Bucky knows that Steve is a favourite, that people flock to him. Bucky is well acquainted with the particular brand of magnetism that Steve has possessed his entire life. But this is different.

Every new person that greets Steve is reaching up to kiss him. Most people are pressing rosy Cheeks to Steve's and planting a kiss there. But every so often someone will bypass Steve's offered cheek and press their lips to his lips. Lips plump and pink and now accosted. Lips that Bucky has been staring at since Steve walked in the door. Lips that he's always had trouble looking away from.

But Bucky’s indecision is a moot point now. Steve has spotted him tucked away in the corner with Wanda and smiles. He says something low and serious to Sam, on Steve’s right, their heads bent forward and their shoulders touching. And then Steve laughs and looks up, claps Sam on the shoulder and makes a beeline for Bucky. Scattering people as he wades through them, singular target now in sight.

He gets three feet from Bucky and then pauses. Standing straight and looming over Bucky and Wanda. Looking between the two of them nervously.

'Hey Buck, sorry I'm so late.'

'It's no problem, Steve,’ Bucky says, nervous by proxy, ‘Wanda's been keeping me company.'

'That’s good, you look good. I love the sweater, where did you find it? Have you been shopping?'

Bucky has to admit, this level of nervousness is unusual even for Steve. 'No I made this,' he says, pulling at the knit, ‘I’ve been knitting as part of my therapy.’

'You made that, Buck?' Steve asks, strange half smile on his face. 

'Yeah… it's a work in progress.' He dropped a few stitches, it's a little uneven at the neckline, but it fits and it's warm, so Bucky is happy with it.

'No, I love it.'

And Bucky doesn't like the fluttery feeling those words set off in his stomach. He tries to deflect. 'What about you?' Bucky asks.

'What about me?'

'What's with this terrible excuse for a festive outfit, some holly or whatever over your head?'

'Oh you mean the mistletoe?' And Steve eyes are darting away from Bucky, his feet are scuffing the ground.

'Ah,' Bucky says, suddenly understanding the rush to get to Steve so they could kiss him, 'You did that on purpose?' He only asks, because normally Steve hates to be kissed, or touched, or be the center of attention. Also it's fun to watch Steve blush. Always has been.

'Well, I mean. yes. It's festive! I ran out of time to implement my first plan, this was a back up.' Steve is getting more flustered with every word.

'It's cute,’ Bucky says, making light of it, worried Steve might spontaneously combust with this sudden onset of nerves, ‘And there are people lining up over there to actually kiss you. Seems like a good plan...'

'I didn't really... I mean I didn't want...' Steve can’t seem to find the words he's looking for, and Wanda looks between the two of them and stands up from her chair.

'I have to go find Maria, come and say goodbye to me before you head off, okay Bucky?' Wanda asks, already backing away from where Steve and Bucky are speaking.

'I will,' Bucky calls out after her, and she salutes him sloppily before turning away.

'Sweet kid,' Bucky says, looking up at Steve, 'So sorry, what's with the "kiss me" sign that you've decided to dress in for this party?'

'It's not a- Listen I hadn't exactly thought this through, okay?'

'Sure, that sounds just like you,' Bucky says with a laugh.

'I just wanted, I just thought, it might be nice to have an excuse to-' Steve cuts himself off by closing his mouth with a snap.

'An excuse to kiss somebody?' Bucky asks. And this time the laugh is fake. Because Bucky doesn't want to know who Steve has his eye on. Who Steve wants an excuse to kiss at this party. Stark knows a lot of pretty people. Although for a moment Bucky is frozen by the idea that it might be Sam. The two of them are close in a way that makes Bucky's heart hurt a little. But that's not his job any more. It's not his spot. He's not Captain America's right hand man. He doesn't have Steve's six. Sam has that now.

God he hopes it's not Sam. 

(He likes Sam, he does, but he can’t ignore Sam. He would have front row seats to watch the whole thing unfold).

Whoever it is, Steve has gone bright red. It shouldn't be so fucking gorgeous, the red flush that creeps up into his cheeks, that spreads down his neck, out to his ears. His few freckles stand out starker against the flush and he looks younger. More innocent. More like the Stevie that Bucky still has patchy memories of, from before the war. Before Steve got big.

'G-ah,' Steve starts with a strangled cough, 'No it's... Well I mean yes but I...' Steve looks around, scanning the room and his eyes land back on Bucky, wide and terrified.

'Are they here, Steve?'

And Steve nods slowly, reluctantly.

'Do you need me to go with you?' He asks, like maybe Steve needs a wingman. Though god knows, from what Bucky remembers, he was never very good at it in the past (which was potentially deliberate on Bucky's part, if the emotions attached to those faded memories are anything to go by).

'No Bucky, I...'

'If you're chickening out you can always just take the thing off your head, Steve, no sense getting worked up about it.' It's criminal, the relief Bucky is feeling at the idea that Steve might not be able to go through with it.

' _No_ Buck. I just - will you give me a second to figure this out,' Steve says, and he steps closer as he speaks, his words almost a plea, the way he's looking at Bucky.

And Bucky has to nod, because he never could deny Steve anything.

Steve steps closer still, right in front of where Bucky is sitting in his chair, and then drops to his knees in front of Bucky. Which... has Bucky raising an eyebrow. Has him moving forward in his seat to lean into Steve's space, find out why he's looking at Bucky like that.

When Steve reaches across with his big hands to take a hold of Bucky's and rest them on Bucky's knees, it's time for Bucky to start asking questions.

'Stevie, what is it?'

'It's you, Buck.'

'What's me?' Bucky asks, and the worry that he might have done something to warrant this bizarre behaviour is clear in Bucky's voice.

But Steve just smiles and shakes his head. 'Oh Buck,' he says, leaning impossibly closer, 'It's for _you_ . The mistletoe,' and Steve looks down, his ridiculous eyelashes fanning across his cheeks as he does, and then up again, to fix Bucky with that bright blue stare, 'The mistletoe is for _you_.'

Wait. What? Bucky has to process that. He has to take a moment to hold that thought in his mind and turn it around until it makes sense. The mistletoe is for Bucky?

'You want...' Bucky stares into Steve's eyes and now that he's looking for it, sees the same stress, the same fear in Steve's expression as he imagines can be seen on his own, 'You want to kiss _me_ , Stevie?'

And Steve sighs a puff of air with relief. 'Yeah Buck, that's exactly what I want.'

And Bucky. Bucky doesn't wait a second longer. He shifts further forward and pulls Steve in sharply by their clasped hands. Steve lets go to catch himself on Bucky's shoulders, and Bucky lifts his free hand to cup it against Steve's cheek. 'Me too, Stevie,' Bucky says, sighing the words into Steve's lips, they're so close to touching, 'I want that too.' And he tilts his chin up to meet Steve's mouth, living out this moment he’s been dreaming of for too many lifetimes. He fits his lips to Steve's, opens into him, draws Steve in with the slight press of his tongue, sucks Steve's bottom lip in and bites down on it gently.

And Steve, Steve pushes back against Bucky. With a sudden rush of power he drives into him, pushes him back against the couch, crowds into him, uses all his bulk to slam Bucky into the cushions and kiss him with a ferocity that should scare Bucky but in fact does the opposite. Bucky can't do more than simply clutch at Steve, hold on by his fingertips as Steve attacks him. Open his mouth to Steve's lips and teeth and tongue.

It's not until they hear someone clearing their throat that Bucky remembers they're at Stark's party. Practically in the middle of a crowd of people.

They separate slowly, look up furtively, and it's Nat looking down at them. The rest of the guests seem to be turned away with feigned nonchalance.

'So ah, not that this isn't hot as fuck,' Nat says, smirk on her face and in her voice, 'But you might want to slow down before you start removing clothes. You don't want to show Tony up at his own party.'

'Fuck,' Steve says, pulling away just enough to Bucky to breathe beneath him, 'Shit, sorry Buck.'

'It's okay,' Bucky says, breathless, 'But ah,’ Bucky looks around and back up at Steve, who’s shirt buttons have been ripped open, the mistletoe knocked askew, hair sticking up everywhere, ‘Maybe we should get out of here.'

'Oh,' Steve says, his pupils blowing out wide at the idea of their leaving together, 'Oh, but I don't have a car. Sam drove me.'

'It's fine I've got my bike, it's just big enough for two,' Bucky says with a smile, and Steve smiles too, wide and joyful.

'Well go on then, Jesus,' Nat says, shaking her head at the and pointing over her shoulder, 'Get out of here, I can make your excuses with everyone for you.'

'Thanks Nat,' Steve says, standing up and pulling Bucky with him, leaning in to press a kiss to Nat's cheek, 'I owe you one.'

'You owe me many,' she says ominously. 'Hurry up before I change my mind.'

And they don't need to be told again. Steve pulls Bucky along behind him as they head for the elevators. Ignoring any and all curious faces.

'My place or yours?' Bucky asks as he presses the button for the garage.

'I don't care as long as it's with you,' Steve says, staring down at Bucky.

And Bucky can't do anything but stare back. And scream internally. And thank god that he didn't leave the party early.

Because this... This is everything Bucky wanted and more.

This might not really be his first Christmas. But it's his best. It's the best.

It's perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest hugs everyone -
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://darter-blue.tumblr.com/) \- 😘
> 
> Or just drop a comment - I get so happy to see you in the comments ❤


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